


The Celestial Virgin

by DevilishDoll



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Blowjobs, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Can you tell I have a Jotunn kink, Cock Sucking, Dirty Talk, Dom Loki (Marvel), Dominant Loki, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Enemies and Lovers, Eventual Romance, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingering, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Horn kink, Impregnation Kink, Innocence, Jealous Loki, Jotun Loki, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Jötunn Loki, King Loki (Marvel), Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Fucks Hard, Loki has a heart, Loki is a sex god, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Plot, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Loki (Marvel), Power Dynamics, Public Sex, Romance, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex, Shameless Smut, Slow Burn, Smut, Somnophilia, Tom Hiddleston Loki, Trickster Gods, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virginity Loss, handjobs, losing virginity, slight Breeding Kink, smut and plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:13:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishDoll/pseuds/DevilishDoll
Summary: The Goddess of innocence knows not to indulge in pleasures of the flesh. But on a quest to Jotunheim to retrieve a relic, pleasure is exactly what she finds when she crosses paths with Jotunheim’s trickster king.Who better than Loki to defile purity herself?





	1. Vices and Virtues

**Author's Note:**

> Im really excited and really nervous for this one. 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to [wrathkitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathkitty/pseuds/wrathkitty) who has spent so much of her time editing, advising, cheering me on and being an amazing human being. She has a lovely Loki/OFC Slow burn which deserves so much love and attention and I urge you to give it a read, I PROMISE you won't regret it [You've Got Suckers Luck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201679/chapters/37865411)
> 
> Astraea is inspired by the Greek Goddess of Innocence, Purity and Justice. However, this is NOT a GreekGoddess/Loki fic. Ive only used her as inspiration, aside from her name, the work title and her Godhood she is a complete original character.

The wicked one has two primal forces of nature on his side: The snowstorm, hell bent on conquering the surrounding forest, swallowing everything in sight until it is nothing more than a sea of white. And second, his heritage, ensuring that her chaser could navigate his way perfectly through the blinding night. Amidst the howling wind and the ice-cold snow that was his playground, he is the hunter, she is the hunted. 

It had become painfully obvious that the chase is what he lives for, is what he does best. His predatory laugh follows her as she runs, echoing through the trees. Astraea knows her time is almost up but she persists, sprinting as fast as her legs will carry her, shielding her eyes from the savage wind.

She feels as if she has been running for an eternity, although it has barely been a half hour. But the harsh climate has worn her out and all but guaranteed that she won’t escape this wretched place.

She should have never come to this desolate realm, never taken that goddamned relic. It was just her luck that she had not only been caught, but caught by the king of Jotunheim himself – and then did not have the sense to start running the moment he had proposed the game. Now it was too late.

_“Well, well…What do we have here?” came the booming voice across the room. “A thief, it seems.”_

_Shock at being caught took over Astraea’s features before she schooled them and spun around to address the speaker, who had crept up behind her, sight unseen._

_“Technically it’s not stealing if the item was never originally yours,” she pointed out._

_“A pretty and a witty thief, then,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “It is in my possession, therefore it is mine, regardless of any prior owners.”_

_“Please just let me leave with it, I promise never to return again.”_

_“Now why would I let you walk out of here alive and in possession of something that is mine?” His smile widened into a grin, revealing sharp, white teeth. “However, I am a merciful ruler, therefore I propose a deal.”_

_“A deal? What kind?” she asked, eager to take what she’d came for and leave._

_“If you manage to escape my realm with it, you can keep it as your prize. If not… then I will get a reward.”_

_“W-what will your reward be, if you win?” she inquired, eyes locked onto the relic still lying in her palm._

_Loki laughed. It was an evil sound, a harbinger of many things, none of them good. “You’ll find out when the time comes.”_

At the time, Astraea had been all too eager to blame his confident reply on his inflated ego, but now she knows better. This game is rigged. She never stood a chance, and it is when she trips over the root of a tree that she knows she has lost.

In the abyss that is the forest, two glowing red eyes appear. 

_His eyes._

The king slowly stalks towards her kneeling form, more and more of his Jotunn build coming into sight as he makes his approach. Soon he is standing directly before her, affording a breathtaking view. His skin is a deep, glacial blue, adorned by markings that symbolise his royal lineage as both sovereign and god. 

Astraea is snatched from her musings when he brutally grips the back of her dress and lifts her to her feet. She knows struggling is futile; he has won – best not to incur his wrath. 

He backs her into a tree, taking his time.

“What will be your prize, then?” she manages to grit out. It’s colder now that she is no longer running, and the frigid air causes her teeth to chatter. 

A grin splits his face once more. This is no ordinary smile. This is the kind that promised to devour you whole. 

“Why you, of course. What better reward than to desecrate the Goddess of Innocence and Purity?” he remarked. The smooth, low rumble of his voice was far from comforting.

“W-we didn’t a-agree to that,” Astraea stammers, her eyes fixed on his blood-red gaze.

“Oh, but that’s where you are wrong, darling,” he purrs, “We didn’t not agree to that. You owe me a reward, little goddess – and I shall have it.”

“Wait! How do you know who I am?” She demanded, fear momentarily transforming into curiosity.

“Oh, you naive little thing, I knew who you were the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Without further delay, he grips the front of her dress with both hands, easily ripping it in two, that same manic grin spreading across his features as the cloth gives way. The destroyed fabric is no longer capable of doing its duty to shield her from his lecherous gaze, and now reveals the delicate golden skin that lay beneath.

Reaching for the tattered remains of her dress, Astraea attempts to hide herself from his prying eyes. 

A growl of disappointment leaves Loki’s throat. 

“You will not hide yourself from me.” Grabbing her wrists, he wrenches them away from their hold on the fabric. 

A whimper escapes her at the violent action. “Please,” she begs, “L-Loki lets talk about this.”

“There is nothing to discuss,” he retorts, “I was promised a reward…And I’ve decided that it will be you.”

His eyes travel from her face to her breasts and lingers there. The enchanting globes are bewitching, and he wonders how they would look adorned by marks of his making, how they would feel upon his tongue as he suckled them – 

So he sates his curiosity by doing just that. 

Lowering his head to her chest, he begins his assault starting with her silky nipples, sucking at one while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger, and grinning in wicked delight when he feels them harden in response to his attentions.

“Dirty little virgin,” he remarks, “you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“N-No,” she whimpers, once more attempting to push him away.

“Liar. I can smell you.” He uses his seidr to restrain her arms above her head. “You’re ripe and ready for the taking. You want this; you simply fear the repercussions,” his voice deepens, vibrating with power as it echoes throughout the silent forest, “Your divinity would cease to be after I’ve defiled you in every way imaginable.” 

Astraea knows he is right. She does want this. Sexual attraction isn’t foreign to her, but the fear of what would become of her if she succumbed to temptation has always outweighed her curiosity. 

What good is her title if it was a lie? How can she be the embodiment of innocence if she was sullied, or be the Goddess of Purity if she engaged in such depraved acts? _Enjoyed_ them?

She is snapped out of her thoughts by these words: “It matters not if you admit to liking it. I’ll enjoy you either way.”

Her breasts forgotten, Loki’s gaze trails down Astraea’s body, his fingers following in their wake. They both know where he will soon reach, and her back arches in anticipation, abandoning all of her prior concerns of surrendering her body to him. 

To her utter mortification, she’s wet, a fact that doesn’t escape Loki. 

“Do you feel how aroused you are, little maiden?” he purrs, toying with the slickness between her thighs. “All of this is for me…Deny it all you want,” he eases his third finger inside her and begins to slowly pump in and out, his thumb grazing her clit as he finishes, “but the truth is right here.”

Slipping a second digit in alongside the first, his lips find her neck. His teeth sink into the fragile skin, diverting her attention from the burning ache of his invading fingers. The tactic works; the sting of his fangs distracts Astraea, and his fingers begin fucking her in earnest, stretching her tight, virgin cunt in preparation for something much larger.

His right hand still busily going to work, he deftly unlaces his leather trousers with his left, pushing them down far enough to free his cock. 

At her first sight of the king’s member, Astraea renews her struggling in earnest, squirming and trying to twist free of the enchantment that is keeping her arms bound above her head and firmly secured to the tree.

She had heard tales of the frost giants, but it certainly had never occurred to her that ‘giant’ also referred to their manhood. His cock is the same shade as his skin, with the exception the tip, which is engorged, purple and straining towards her. Most surprising, however, is not its threatening size or its colouring, but the fact it is adorned by ridges from top to bottom. 

_There was no way that glorified blue icicle was going to fit inside her!_

“Worry not, little pet,” the wicked one chuckles when he sees her alarm, fingers still pumping into her center, “I promise not to harm you - permanently.” 

Releasing her hands from their bonds, he brings one to his cock, manoeuvring her fingers so they grip him tightly, and guides her hand up and down his shaft.

He feels hot and silky in her hold, beautifully thick and pulsing. Without her permission, her hand tightens around him and strokes him, faster than he initially guided her to, from root to tip and then back again. 

Loki’s fingers still in surprise and a guttural groan escapes from his throat. He quickly regains his composure, and the rhythmic thrusting of his fingers commences once more, this time at a rougher, faster pace.

“Oh, how you fascinate me, Astraea,” he says, arrogance evident in his tone. “One moment you resist me, the next you grip my cock and stroke me with all the skill of a well-paid harlot.”

She ignores him and continues to work, moving her hand in hard, steady strokes. Her thumb passes over the head of his leaking prick, collecting the beads of pre-cum, and then smearing it down his length, slickening her palm to glide up and down his shaft more easily. 

His breathing accelerates, his groans filling the silent forest. Sensing that he is close, she picks up the pace, squeezing him even harder, pumping him faster. She wants to make him cum, to feel his seed spurt onto her – to see his essence glisten on her skin.

Astraea’s yearning aspirations are interrupted when the hand over hers halts her movements and the fingers caressing her inner walls withdraw. Dismay fills her momentarily but excitement takes its place when his words reach her ears.

“Oh no, darling,” he pants, “I’ll not waste my seed, spilling it out here.”

“Then…where?” Astraea asks in confusion.

Eyes locked with hers, he places a palm over her lower belly and smoothly drags his thumb across the delicate skin. 

“I will deposit it deep in your womb, of course.”

All she can do is whimper in reply. 

There is a common misconception that Jotunns are averse to all kinds of heat. Fire and flames are _certainly_ not welcome, of course but when it comes to carnal matters…warmth is _paradise._ The heat of a cunt or fist was enough to make a Jotunn wild with desire. 

Loki had always theorised that this was owed to the fact that Frost Giants rarely mate with other races; males were unaccustomed to being enveloped by the near-scalding temperature of an exotic cunt.

Which is why, when Astraea had tightened her grip on his shaft and started to stroke as if satisfying him was her only reason for existence, he almost succumbed to the mind-numbing pleasure her hand was providing him. 

Which is also why he had to stop her, lest he make a fool of himself so early in the night. Her palm was lovely and warm, and it had pained him to remove her from around his painfully engorged cock, but it was a necessary evil. 

He could have simply allowed her to finish him, of course, and then pleasure her in return until he hardened once more. But the thought of waiting a moment longer to be inside her was absolutely abhorrent. 

“You may want to hold onto my shoulders to steady yourself for this next bit, sweetling.” 

He makes his next move the moment her hands are in place. Cupping the underside of her thigh with his left palm, he lifts her right leg high and to the side, exposing her core to his greedy eye.

“Even your little pussy is gorgeous,” he groans, “but it will look better yet with my cock lodged inside it.” 

Using his free hand, he grips his shaft and gently nudges it between her virgin folds, sliding it back and forth, coating himself in her slick. She is hot here, too, painfully so. 

Loki is desperate to sheath himself inside her, to taint her. He is a savage creature born of the ice and snow and has no intention of restraining himself. If things were different, were he not a feral beast imprisoned by his own desire, he would have been hesitant to defile one so innocent. 

Unfortunately for her, he was what he was. There would be no stopping him now. 

Aligning himself with her entrance, Loki flexes his hips and pushes in, relishing the yelp that escapes her and the sting of her nails digging into him as he slowly stretches her untouched passage. 

Aeons seem to pass until he is fully sheathed inside her, though it takes only a matter of minutes – he had to pause midway to prevent himself from barbarically thrusting straight into her. He does not want to break his prize.

His predicament isn’t any easier once she has accepted all of him, however. Astraea’s channel is so tight it borders on unbearable, and the heat of her cunt only amplifies the divine sensation of her squeezing his cock with such need and devotion.

Beasts had no place in Valhalla, and yet…that’s exactly where he currently found himself.

He glances down, wanting to both feel and see paradise, and groans at the sight that greets his eyes.

Astraea’s tiny pussy impaled upon his thick girth – it is a view to die for, the brilliant blue of his manhood contrasting magnificently to her delicate, pink hued cunt. 

Gritting his teeth, he pulls free of her almost completely, wanting to enjoy seeing himself spear her once more. The whimpers falling from her mouth only arouse him further; having her helpless beneath him is reigniting the primal desire to fuck her hard, but manages to restrain himself.

“Hush, sweet darling,” he tells her as he continues to slowly withdraw and then hilt himself back in, “Relax. Accept me. Before long you’ll be begging for more.”

She tries to oblige, and with effort, her straining muscles begin to relax, her resisting walls loosening their hold and better accommodating his length. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, feeling her surrender. “I am your god, your king and you belong to me.” 

Astraea barely hears him. He is speaking; his words are important, that she knew, and a part of her demands that she focus on his voice so as to resist, to deny everything lie that leaves his mouth. 

But she hears nothing. Her world is soundless. The only thing she cares for is currently splitting her wide, plowing its way through her virgin depths. 

It had hurt when he first entered her, he was thick and hard and ready to conquer her – and that’s exactly what he’d done. The initial pain had been searing, but he paid her no mind as she whimpered, as though his aim was to break her – and in a way, she realised, it was.

But then he had told her to relax and promised her pleasure. And so she had listened, -- obeyed, even – and was soon lost in the sensation of him moving inside her. Her pain forgotten, she now is able to feel every inch, every ridge and vein of his cock as he harshly thrusts in and slowly pulls out. 

The blood pumping in her ears drowns out yet another remark, his voice yet again lost to the wind. 

“What did you say?” she gasps. 

_“Pay attention,”_ he growls, angry at her lack of concentration, “I said, ‘Look down.’ Watch as I fuck you, little maid – watch and see how exquisite your pussy looks as it devours me.”

Her gaze drifts to where they are joined, she moans at what she sees.

He spoke the truth. 

Loki’s ribbed, blue cock shoves into her at a frenzied pace and her cunt dutifully swallows, her folds spread wide around his enormity. The position he’s holding her in makes it so much more erotic; one azure, slender-fingered hand still grips her thigh, keeping her spread for him and ensuring nothing will interrupt his rhythmic pounding or obstruct his beguiling view. 

Her eyes are glued to the spot, almost as if she were paralysed. What had once been trepidation was now sheer lust, she’s close, on the edge of a cliff from which she cannot wait to fall, the sinful image bringing her that much closer to ecstasy. 

He moves his free hand away from the tree and trails it down her body, scraping the sharp, black nail of his index finger across her chest and over her nipple before continuing downwards.

Gooseflesh breaks out across her skin in response, both from the pressure of his nails against her, and the fear that he might use them to harm her. 

It’s when he reaches her clit that she realises his true intent. 

His fingers begin stroking her sensitive pearl in time with his thrusts, it’s mere moments before she comes. Shocks of electric pleasure make their way up Astraea’s spine, her whole body alighting with sensation, almost as if she were an exploding star.

Astraea slackens against him, so delirious with pleasure that she is no longer able to hold on. She manages to lock her hands around his neck and her head drops, coming to rest in the curve of his shoulder. His thrusting continues relentlessly as she pants and whines into his ear, his other hand which was previously strumming her clit now holding her up against him. 

“Shhh, pet, we are almost done,” he says. His voice is kind, lacking in its usual gruffness, “Hold on for just a little longer.” 

A weak whimper escapes her, hearing this, and an unknown force seems to compel her to do as he says, to remain conscious for just a few moments more. 

Three ferocious thrusts later, he stills, groaning as he reaches his completion. He fills her, just as he had promised, and cold blooms across her insides as he floods her womb with his seed. 

Astraea feels him slide out from her core, followed by the rough bark of the tree at her back as he props her up against its trunk. A few moments pass, and then she becomes aware of another sensation – of his thumbs tucking into her folds and spreading her lips apart. 

Her vision blurred, she glances down and gazes at him through drooping eyes as he greedily watches his cum seep out of her. 

_“Nothing more fitting than the embodiment of purity tainted by one as far from pure as could be,”_ is the last thing she hears before she slips into unconsciousness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts in the comments?
> 
> Also this line; "There was no way that glorified blue icicle was going to fit inside her!" - May have been inspired by something, somewhere, some time ago. I can't remember, though. So I am not entirely sure if this is something I came up with or something I was inspired by from someone else or from a conversation I had with someone. IF this is your line, please let me know so I can change it. It's driving me crazy and I seriously can't remember why it seems so familiar. :/ 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr under devilish--doll Come by and say hi? I'd love to chat with you all.


	2. Dinner and Debauchery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited by the wonderful [WrathKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201679/chapters/37865411) to whom everyone owes a thank you for advising that I make the smut filthier.
> 
> She said, and I quote: "Your readers are going to be passing out in their chairs or running for their vibrators” - DO tell me if she was right. 
> 
> The response to the first chapter was a joy, I cherish every single comment. Thank you to all those who kudo'd and/or commented, I hope you enjoy this one too. 
> 
> Kǫttr - Means kitten in Old Norse.

Astraea jerks awake, head pounding and heart hammering against her ribcage. This was certainly not where she was supposed to be, she thought, looking around the room in dismay. She was in the palace, in a room larger than any she had ever seen, in a bed big enough to fit at least four, and…sore.

It was the latter realisation that brought memories of the previous day rushing back to her.

She had lost the wager. The wicked king had known she would and she played right into his hands. 

Just like a stupid little girl would. 

He had claimed her as his prize, defiled her, but that wasn’t even the worst part. No, that honour went to the fact that she had enjoyed it, and had experienced pleasure like no other from the cock of a trickster. 

She wanted off this planet, but first she needed to retrieve the relic, and also find clothing, as the king had apparently neglected to dress her after defiling her in the freezing Jotunheim climate.

A shiver ran through her at the memory of him gazing upon her naked form with his lust-blown red eyes.  
Astraea quickly scrambles from the bed, wanting to study the room before her. The four-poster bed in which she just woke up, along with a massive closet takes up half of the room. The bed posts were ornately carved, depicting scenes from various myths, some she knew, and others that were unfamiliar.

Cautiously looking around, she spots a huge window that is directly opposite the bed and overlooking the towering snow-covered mountains of Jotunheim.

Glancing to the left side of the room, she sees two towering doors that seemed to be constructed of both ice and wood. These too were ornately carved with runes and symbols that were foreign to her. 

A beautiful mural spanning across the wall dominated the room, disrupted only by the existence of the doors centered in the middle. 

It was an enormous sea serpent - Jörmungandr she realised. The great beast that lived in the ocean surrounding the realm of the mortals, rumoured to be a son of Loki. 

Astraea froze. _These were the king’s rooms._

She had to leave. Immediately. 

Rushing over to the closet, Astraea pulls out the first tunic and trousers she can see and dresses herself in record speed. She spots a pair of fur-rimmed boots next, laying abandoned at the back of the wardrobe, tugs them on, and then makes her way towards the door. 

_Find the relic and leave this place,_ she tells herself. _That’s the plan._

Ignoring the insistent throbbing of her head, Astraea makes her way out the doors and into the empty hallway, briskly walking through the corridors. It’s abnormally quiet for a palace. The broad and straight halls are cold, unwelcoming and all of them identical. 

Finally, she reaches a winding staircase leading downwards, and takes a deep breath as she slowly begins to descend; if there was anyone in the hallway below, she had to be as quiet as possible.

She’s almost reached the bottom when she hears voices coming her way, so she spins around, climbing back up the stairs in a rush, rounds the corner as soon as she reaches the top, and bolts down the corridor before she can be spotted. 

Just as she thinks she’s in the clear, she collides with a cold, hard chest.  
With a yelp Astraea falls onto her backside, the impact setting her off balance and worsening the pounding of her head.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Loki.

“You are in my way,” she snaps, closing her eyes and willing the pain to go away. 

“Really?” he chuckles, “I thought it was you who was in mine. Either way, you should be resting.” 

“I don’t need to rest, I need to get out of here,” Astraea retorts, scrambling unsteadily to her feet. “Where’s the relic? I want it.” 

“You lost, the relic is mine, and so are you,” he said, placing a hand on her forearm to steady her.

“No. I’m leaving, give me th- Hey! Put me down!” 

To her absolute horror, the king lifts her up and slings her over his shoulder.

“I said you need to rest,” he repeated, “You are going back to bed. My bed.” 

“Let me go!” she shrieks, furiously kicking her legs in an attempt to make him set her down. “I’m not a sack of vegetables!”

“If you don’t stop squirming, I will spell you into unconsciousness,” Loki growls in return. 

That threat was enough to silence her.

* * *

Astraea’s fists clench at her sides beneath the bed sheets.

The target of her ire is currently seated near the foot of the bed and set on watching her intently.

“You are in pain,” Loki idly remarks, more to himself than to her.

“You fucked me like a beast in the middle of a blizzard! Of course I am in pain,” she snaps at him, furious at his nonchalance and seeming lack of care towards her current state. 

“I do not remember you complaining at the time,” Loki says, voiced tinged with amusement, “Nor while you were running through the halls headed to the Norns know where, and not in the least concerned about your lack of winter dress.”

Astraea grits her teeth in answer, choosing instead to admire the delicate white curtains which she had failed to notice earlier.

“Speaking of careless,” he continues, eager to discover her intentions, “You came to my realm seeking to steal from me in naught but a gown. Any particular reason for that, kǫttr?” 

“I was in a rush and simply forgot,” Astraea lies, shifting uncomfortably in her spot.

“A lie. And not a very good one, either,” he points out, eyes fixed on hers. “It matters not. You will tell me, eventually.” 

“You are mistaken. I have no plans to remain on this realm,” Astraea retorts, snobbishly tilting her chin up in an attempt to look demanding and fearless.

“No, dear one. It is you who is mistaken,” Loki replies, a dark grin spreading across his features. “You are my prize, and I am far from done with you yet.”

“You don’t understand, I have to go!” she protests, growing desperate. “Just give me the relic, please and let me leave.” 

Loki moves, towering over her in a flash, roughly gripping her chin to force Astraea to look him in the eyes. 

“One more word about the relic or leaving and I will punish you,” he tells her, speaking in a low, harsh tone, “This is my palace, my realm and you will obey me. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, I understand,” Astraea replies tremulously, averting her eyes from his petrifying gaze.

“Good,” he says, pleased with himself for both gaining her acquiescence and for instilling fear in her heart. “Now rest, I will wake you when it is time for dinner.”

With that, Loki spins on his heel and storms from the chamber, leaving Astraea alone once more with her thoughts. 

_What will become of me now?_

She wasn’t able to leave, and even if she could, returning home was not an option because they would be waiting for her. They had made it clear that if she didn’t do as she was told it would end poorly for her.

She had _tried._ It wasn’t her fault that her plans were thwarted by Loki! 

Perhaps she could reason with them? Beg them to give her another chance?

Astraea’s mind began to race, dwelling on various possibilities and outcomes. Would they kill her for her failure? Send another in her place to do what she had failed to accomplish? Would the Ice King protect her from harm if they came for her? Or would he throw her at their feet once he had his fill of her?

He wasn’t a monster, he wouldn’t idly stand by and watch harm come to her…right?

 _Isn’t he, though?_ challenged a voice in her mind. _He defiled you in the middle of a forest!_

But she hadn’t stopped him. She had liked it. 

And although he had defiled her in a forest, he could have left her to perish in the cold once he was done. Instead he had brought her to the palace, placed her in a warm bed, and returned her there when he later found her in the hallway and noticed her swaying on her feet.

Would a monster bother to show such kindness? 

_I am far from done with you yet._

His words echoed in her mind.

Yes, she decided. This monster would bother to show kindness, for he had his own selfish reasons for doing so. After all, she was his plaything now. A toy for the king to entertain himself with. 

Leaving this realm without the relic in hand was not an option. Therefore, she’d be his willing little toy until an opportunity arose. 

And then she would get the hell out of here. 

As promised, the King returned some time later to retrieve her for dinner. He handed her a warm, fur-trimmed gown, and led her out the door as soon as she was dressed.

She followed him through the icy hallways, down two sets of stairs and finally, through a set of enormous doors. These too were carved from both ice and wood, Astraea noticed, as was almost everything else she had seen in the palace.

The feast hall was monstrous in size, the ceiling must have been eighty foot high, and the room was bustling with activity. At least a dozen long, solid wood tables, each capable of seating at least twenty giants filled the arena. Jotunn servants were placing trays upon trays of food before them, some containing dishes she had never seen before. 

Though the men were substantially larger than the women, both were well-muscled and rough looking and could definitely handle themselves with equal ferocity. Neither, however, apparently wore much clothing. 

The men wore trousers and not much else, aside from some opting to wear decorative furs slung around their bare shoulders. The women wore fur skirts and tops made of a material that resembled leather, but some were bedecked in elaborate furs adorned with gems – an indication of nobility, perhaps? 

And everyone was red eyed, blue skinned and outrageously tall. 

She was the odd one out. There were no delicate, golden-eyed maidens to be seen in this hall, no one with Astraea’s shimmering sun-kissed skin and long, silky brown hair. 

She was alone.

Loki’s voice broke through her thoughts: “This way.” 

Astraea continues following him, peering around nervously as Loki led her through the throng of giants, and trying to ignore the whispers that had erupted throughout the room. 

What seemed like hundreds of pairs of red eyes were fixed on her, most of them glaring in disdain. These people didn’t know her, yet they had already chosen to despise her. 

How would she survive Jotunheim if its inhabitants evidently wanted her gone?

After what seemed like an endless walk through the most malicious atmosphere Astraea had ever encountered, they finally reached a table that was identical to the rest, aside for the fact that it was on a raised dais and facing the entire hall.

Astraea had seen enough feasts to know that this was where the King, Queen and their royal advisors sat. Except there was no Queen – only the king and his council members. 

Loki calmly makes his way to the throne-like seat placed at the centre of the table. “Sit,” he tells her, gesturing towards the empty chair on the left.

Seeing as sitting at the head table next to the king is a far better option than standing around like an exotic caged animal, Astraea follows his instruction and takes her seat. Hopefully the start of the feast will divert the attention of all those studying her. 

Her wish is only partly granted. 

Once Loki commands for the meal to begin, the majority of giants busy themselves with the mouthwatering selections of food before them. Those seated at the high table, however, are far more interested in watching their king hand his guest a goblet of wine and place various meats and what looks like blue broccoli onto her plate. 

_Is everything on this wretched planet blue?_

While none vocalise their disdain at a foreigner being seated at the head table – and being served by the king, no less – their feelings are obvious from their expressions.

The king, however, has either not noticed the disgust of their audience or simply does not care. Once satisfied with the amount of food on Astraea’s plate, he immediately turns to the Advisor seated at his right, begins a conversation and ignores everyone else. 

Much to Astraea’s dismay, that includes her, too. 

Left with no source of conversation, and her hunger rearing its head in the form of a stomach rumble, Astraea tentatively tastes the food on her plate. She is surprised to that the blue vegetable may not actually be broccoli but is definitely delicious, and tucks into her meal – all the while attempting to ignore the crude whispers, comments and remarks of the giants around her. 

It works. Mostly, at least.

* * *

Her plate empty, her wine all drunk and Loki still ignoring her, Astraea has resorted to the only option available to amuse herself with: Studying the giants. Which is entertaining enough until she unintentionally makes eye-contact with the wrong one. 

Specifically, the giant sitting across from her. He was terrifying, the bulkiest giant she had seen so far, all threatening fangs and red, spine-chilling eyes - so unlike Loki’s, which resembled rubies.

She had previously overheard him speaking to his neighbour about whether or not the king would let him have her once he’d had his fill. And now he was greedily biting meat off a bone as if he were devouring her, all the while staring her down.  
This wasn’t a hateful glare. This was something else entirely. She remembered that look, it was the one Loki had worn the night before in the forest, the moment before he had ravished her. Except there was one major difference between the two: The look in Loki’s eyes hadn’t been malignant or made her ill at ease, but instead had aroused her and made her crave him as she craved air.

Dread creeps over her like a blanket of merciless, cold snow. She shivers and presses closer to Loki, subconsciously placing her hand on his wrist where it sits on the armrest of his chair. 

Unsure what she had hoped the king would do, she is unreasonably pleased when he reaches over, lifts her and deposits her into his lap. 

She feels safe from harm, though she knows she shouldn’t. He is her captor and she his captive, but he is the only familiar thing in this foreign place. She can’t trust him, but his presence is comforting.

So she shifts in his lap, turning to straddle him, and locks her arms around him and hides her face in his neck, avoiding all the eyes she knows are on her once more. 

Loki doesn’t react to her sudden change of position, but does find himself attempting to ignore his suddenly hardening cock.

And for this exact reason, Loki redirects his attention back to the table, engaging in painfully boring small talk with his councillors, but within an hour, the weight of Astraea’s small, warm body pressed up against him becomes too much to resist. 

Well, self-control was never his forte. 

No longer bothering trying to restrain himself, his hands begin their exploration at her waist, trailing up over her curves and pausing at her breasts, where he delights in the discovery that her nipples are already hard as stones.

He pinches them, relishing the responding moan that leaves Astraea’s throat. 

“Eager girl,” he breathes into her ear, hands now beneath her dress and caressing over her uncovered mound. 

Perhaps it was the wine, or maybe it was her earlier feelings of safety but Astraea did not protest. 

Loki places one hand on her inner thigh, ensuring she can’t close her legs as the digits of his other gently spread her lips apart, finding and roughly pinching her clit, then sliding down to her entrance to tease her cunt until she is dripping and ready to accept him. 

Once satisfied that she is sufficiently aroused, he uses his Seidr to free himself from his trousers, aligns himself with her slick entrance and slowly breaching her. 

“A-ah!” 

Astraea’s high pitched cry attracts the attention of every giant in the room, all heads instantly turning towards the head table. Various expressions cross the faces of the crowd, shock and repugnance being most prominent – a fact Loki delights in, gaining perverse pleasure from being able to look upon his subjects as they watch him debauch his little maiden.

He knows very well what they are thinking, he can see it written plainly across their features. In all his years as King, he has never once laid claim to a woman in public, has never once even been tempted to do so. 

His subjects are wondering what brought upon such a change, what could this tiny, foreign woman possess that their feared and fearless leader would find so irresistible.

Another fact he delights in, for he will allow none to ever lay hands upon her and thus they will never discover the bliss that is Astraea’s cunt. 

“Hush, kǫttr, taking me will become easier, with time,” Loki whispers, voice coated in saccharine sweetness. 

Loki’s shaft is colder than Astraea remembers, it’s frigid, near unbearable, making her hyper-aware to his gradual and thorough penetration. He has barely breached her but she feels full, the thick head of his cock splitting her open and making way for every last inch of him.

“Now, show them all who owns you,” he purrs, slowly sheathing himself in her warmth. As he presses deeper he deliberately allows a loud groan to leave his throat, wanting to exhibit to everyone present the pleasure he is experiencing.

Astraea mewls loudly as his chilly cock makes its way forward, pussy clenching hopelessly around him as her body tries to accommodate his girth.

“No one else can have you,” he grunts, “No one but me will ever fuck your tight, hot cunt.”

Loki directs his words to the previously offending giant, a detail Astraea is not privy to as she is not facing the table and therefore does not see the stony glare the King gives him.

Finally hilted completely, Loki gently rocks up into her, establishing a slow, teasing pace.  
The action makes Astraea bounce up and down on his lap, providing those still watching insight into how powerless she is compared to him.

A low groan escapes her when Loki places his hands on her hips and starts moving her harder up and down his prick. 

“Are you enjoying this, little one?” he murmurs in arrogant triumph, but still speaking loud enough for all seated at the head table to hear. “Do you like how the king’s cock feels inside you?”

“Yes, Loki,” Astraea whispers, utterly embarrassed that she was indeed enjoying it.

“Shall I fill you with my seed again, darling girl?” 

Drawing in a deep breath Astraea meekly mumbles “Yes. Please.”

“I don’t think everyone heard you. Say it louder,” he commanded, punctuating the order by thrusting harder. “Tell them what you want.”

Drunk on pleasure Astraea obeys, immediately babbling, “I- Ah! Please! I want you to fill me Loki.” 

A self-satisfied smile splits Loki’s features and his eyes sweep over the audience. They now have not only borne witness to his claiming of her, but also her obeying his lewd demands.

“That’s my girl,” Loki grunts his praise, now fucking Astraea with renewed vigour. “I want you to come… _now._ ” 

Incapable of resisting Loki’s silky, deep voice, and eager to experience the depths of orgasmic pleasure once more, she comes, sinking her teeth into his shoulder as she rides the waves of her climax.

Soon Loki’s steady thrusting becomes uneven, hips stuttering before he groans and pumps Astraea full of his seed, which drips out of her strained entrance and onto both the seat and his legs. 

Minutes pass before she is able to form coherent thought.

“Wh-Why am I so tired?” she manages to say, feeling the same overwhelming exhaustion as she did in the forest. 

“Shh. You are mortal now, my delicate flower.” Loki whispers in her ear. “Your body needs time to adjust.”


	3. Misery and Mortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited as always by the magnificent [WrathKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201679/chapters/37865411) :) Who put up with me during the whole mess that writing this chapter was.. Go give her wonderful stories some love. 
> 
> And another thank you to [orchids_bloom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchids_bloom/pseuds/orchids_bloom) for trying _very_ hard to explain the exact art of tenses. Regardless of the fact that I will undoubtedly make the same mistakes next time. 
> 
> This chapter gave me a ROUGH time. And I still am not quite happy with it, it was re-ordered twice, scenes were re-written multiple times and yet: *angry noises in the distance* 
> 
> But I guess they can't all be perfect. I hope you readers enjoy it :)

Delicious Jotunn Loki, created by [MoltenGalaxies](https://moltengalaxies.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. She spent days editing this to perfection.. The original creator of that image of Loki is [NaSyu](https://www.deviantart.com/nasyu/art/Loki-436360371)

* * *

_Shh. You are mortal now, my delicate flower. Your body needs time to adjust._

Astraea’s body goes rigid in Loki’s arms at hearing those words. Confusion crosses her features, accompanied by a spine-chilling sense of foreboding.

The exhaustion she had felt moments ago vanishes into thin air. 

“What did you say?” Her words are a whisper, but her voice is cold and radiates barely concealed fury.

The king, not wanting to converse on this matter in public, rises silently from his seat with a still-impaled Astraea in his arms and teleports them back to his room.

Withdrawing himself from her core he deposits Astraea onto the edge of his bed, before spinning on his heel and stalking towards the shelves where he kept small keepsakes that held sentimental value.

Apart from their breathing, the room is silent for minutes before Astraea speaks. 

“You said I was mortal. What did you mean by that?”

Loki carelessly drops the object he was toying with back onto the shelf, where it lands with a loud clang that resonates through the room.

Slowly, he turns to face her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips – a smile she knew to expect, as the King always seemed to be in a perpetual state of amusement. No matter how bored he may be or how trivial the subject. 

This subject however, Astraea does _not_ view as trivial. 

“Well, darling, you see, your divinity was _such_ a fragile thing,” he says smugly. “So, I took the liberty of freeing you from it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Astraea snaps, anger rising at her captor’s amused tone.

Loki chuckles as he steps closer to her. “Oh, don’t play coy, little one. I know you remember what I told you in the forest.”

_Your divinity would cease to be after I’ve defiled you in every way imaginable._

Every muscle in Astraea’s body freezes, the blood draining from her face as she pieces together what he had meant. _“What did you do?”_ she shrieks, springing to her feet.

“Nothing you didn’t agree to,” he remarks, shrugging nonchalantly.

“You knew I didn’t understand what you meant!” Astraea’s voice is panicked, her eyes going wild with fright, “And yet you did it anyway!” Tears begin to spill down her face, “You tricked me!”

Loki feels a twinge of remorse at addressing the sensitive subject so heartlessly. Approaching her with caution, as though she were a wounded animal, he attemptsto pull her trembling form into a soothing embrace. She backs away from him as soon as he reaches out to touch her.

“Don’t touch me!” she hisses, eyes flashing with rage.

The pang of guilt he had felt fades, immediately replaced by anger.

“You forget your place, little goddess,” he sneers, baring his teeth.

A loud knock comes from the door, interrupting them just as Astraea is about to make a retort.

Making his way over to the door, he snarls, “This conversation is over,” before slamming it roughly as he exited.

Astraea’s breathing hitches as her knees grow weak and she slumps to the cold floor. She stares listlessly at the ground as her vision blurs further with tears of despair. 

_How did it come to this?_

As a little girl, not yet having reached godhood, Astraea had been taught many things. She had been taught how to act, what to expect, what role she would play, she had learnt of the intricate workings of being divine, and gained knowledge of blessings, curses, miracles and rituals.

But not once was she told that it was possible to cease being celestial.

Consequences for going against one’s divinity? _Yes._ That she had been taught, and _that_ was what she had assumed would happen for letting the wicked one – or anyone – claim her. A simple consequence for opposing her true nature.

Aphrodite being a perfect example – she had learnt that she was to be the Goddess of love, then proceeded to announce her hatred for romance and every living creature that believed in it, declaring that they were weak, foolish and lacking in intellect.

Days later Aphrodite embraced her divinity.— After claiming that she had experienced the strangest of things, a loveless world, devoid of all passion, devotion and friendship.

Apparently, Astraea was to be punished in a much harsher way: Becoming mortal in a land whose inhabitants were famous for slaughtering them for sport, for if there was anything the Jötnar hated more than foreigners, it was _mortal_ foreigners.

Rising from the floor, she walks over to the window and saw another blizzard raging outside. The view of the freakishly-large mountains was now obscured by ice-white dust as snow was lifted from the ground and blown about by the brutal winds.

Astraea catches her reflection in the frosted glass, and sees that her eyes – that only yesterday were as gold as honey and shone like stars on a clear night – now seemed dull.

Loki had stolen something from her, something she hadn’t had any intention to give.

Her eyes had been a symbol of divinity, all gods and goddesses had luminescent eyes of liquid gold, and now because of him, they would become a bland, lifeless amber. Like the eyes of most mortals.

_Your divinity would cease to be after I’ve defiled you in every way imaginable._

His words had been a guarantee. Masterfully disguised by a trickster, coated in sugar and shielded by filthy promises.

What else would he steal from her?

He had taken her virginity, her immortality, her divinity. What was left?

She had felt safe with him, thought that maybe there was a chance he wasn’t like his savage subjects, that he could be an ally. 

She had been wrong to think such things.

He wasn’t like them at all. He was _worse._ At least the Jötnar did not hide their dislike for her, they had made their disdain quite clear the moment she walked into that feast hall.

Loki, instead, chose to play games with her. He toyed with her body, toyed with her emotions,was kind one moment, and cruel the next.

He had made her feel safe at dinner and then he had whispered those horrible words in her ear, as if she were some mindless toy he could comfort, harm or fuck anywhere and anytime he pleased.

No, she would not let him take her again, no matter how tempting he was or how good he made her feel when he did.

And she would certainly not sleep in the same bed as him, either!

Marching over to Loki’s stupidly large bed, Astraea grabs two pillows and carries them back to the window. A cold floor was far more welcoming than spending the night next to the manipulative, deceitful king. No matter how comfortable his bed was or how good he was with his cock.

Once she had finished arranging the pillows, Astraea pressed her cheek to the soft velvet, curling into herself and getting as comfortable as she could before closing her eyes and hoping sleep would come soon.

* * *

Frowning in frustration, Loki scrutinises the relic in his palm. It is a small thing, a black onyx statuette of a woman barely the length of his hand. She wore an exquisitely detailed crown, and was attired in a sleeveless stola, fastened on her right shoulder by a fibula.

It was a pretty trinket, but it had seen better days. The thing was obviously ancient, and bore scratches and chips in places, its detail dulling from being handled.

He couldn’t understand why Astraea came for it. He had inspected it many times after her arrival and concluded it was nothing special. It held no magic, and the stone from which it was carved held no value.

Loki _hated_ not knowing things. Which is why he had handed it off to Gelling for a second opinion, who now stood before him shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Gelling was the head scientist who had served many kings before Loki’s reign. Loki had hoped that perhaps he might even have heard or read about the statue in his years of research and might be able to tell him something new.

The scientist’s voice breaks through Loki’s thoughts, “Your majesty, it seems to be nothing more than a peculiar statue of a lady.” His unease was obvious - the king was known to have a short temper, especially upon receiving bad news, and the last thing Gelling wanted was to be at the receiving end of his rage.

“Nothing? Not even an Iota of power?” Loki presses, unwilling to accept that it was nothing more than what it seemed. “There’s nothing abnormal about it?”

“Nothing I could detect, my king.”

A loud exhale leaves him before Loki mutters, “Leave.”

Gelling does just that, leaving the king alone with the relic in the vault. 

_Yet another dead end,_ he muses.

What irked him the most was that he had only stolen the relic for his own entertainment, no more than just a bit of mischief. But now, with Astraea’s arrival and failed attempt at thievery, he simply could not believe it truly was worthless -- especially when he recalled the day he acquired it.

He had been visiting Ninvore - a loathsome planet inhabited by the outcasts and criminals from throughout the universe. Repulsive as the place was, however, it hosted the largest auctions for antiquities, black market goods, knick-knacks, powerful artefacts and of course, as every despicable land - people.

Thus making it the number one spending ground for the immoral and the filthy rich, of which Loki was both.

The statue had been the most heavily guarded item there, but strangely it wasn’t even for sale. It had sat on display in a glass case, surrounded by four bulky, heavily-armed alien men, whose skin was a deep purple and covered in thick, grotesque scales. To taunt and tempt auction-goers, Loki had assumed at the time.

And so he proceeded to steal it right out from under them, and had taken pride in the fact that the security was no match for him.

Looking back on that day now told him one thing:

That he needed to put it somewhere safer, lest Astraea or anyone else come looking. _Again._

* * *

Loki, having dedicated hours to sealing away the relic, returned to his chambers well into the night. Anticipating that Astraea would be asleep, he entered quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

What he hadn’t anticipated, however, was to find was an empty bed.

Glancing around the room, he spots her lying on the floor near the window. His anger rises, bubbling beneath his skin. _She would disrespect his hospitality?_

Her foolishness mattered not. He would place her in his bed, where she belonged, next to him, her little body keeping him warm and sated, and if she insisted upon neglecting his bed each night, he would simply move her after she fell asleep. 

Two could play this game.

Stalking over to her sleeping form, hecannot help but pause to admire her. The pale Jotunheim moonlight spills into the room, casting her lithe frame in a silver glow, and – much to his chagrin – his annoyances vanishes,now replaced by a single thought: That Astraea was beautiful even in sleep.

Her wavy brown locks are messily strewn about, framing her face, and he finds himself envying the pillows for having the privilege of leaving them in such a state.

 _He_ wants to be the one to take sole responsibility for her state of disorder, to rule her completely as is his due as sovereign. He wants to tangle his hands in her hair, to bite her plump lips and mar them, because they are softer than they have any right to be, to bind her to his bed and adorn her skin with bruises both black and blue.

These desires are unwise, it would be best to forget them and yet, he does not wish to. 

He would have her again, he decides, regardless of it being mere hours since he had enjoyed her last. And this time he would take her on the floor like a rabid beast, fucking her under the soft glow of the moon.

These filthy contemplations have made him hard, a situation he is eager to remedy.

Loki rapidly strips off his trousers and kneels beside Astraea. Moving slowly, he raises her dress and spreads her legs until he is able to situate himself between them. With her core on display for his greedy eyes to devour, he gently caresses her cunt, making a most pleasing discovery the moment he touches her: She’s still slick from his earlier attentions.

Grabbing his engorged and eager cock, he brings it to her opening, lazily rubbing his leaking tip through her folds, coating himself in her slick before pushing inside, savouring each and every second until he finally bottoms out. Holding himself there, he places his hands above the pillow on either side of her head and then slowly withdraws his cock, and surges forward once more in one steady, hard thrust. 

He withdraws and thrusts in again. 

And again.

Despite the fact that she is sound asleep, Astraea’s pussy instinctively reacts to his invasion, and Loki finds his cock being gripped with such force that sliding out of her is almost a challenge. Filling the room with a loud groan, he thrusts into her again, harder this time. 

Astraea wakes to a burning sensation between her legs, and the sound of a man loudly taking his pleasure reaches her ears, immediately alerting her to what was going on.

Someone was fucking her!

In the grip of silent panic, she attempts to squirm away, hands pushing against the hard chest situated above her.

“Relax, little maiden, it’s me,” he growls, gripping both her wrists in one large hand and pinning them above her head. 

_Loki._ The relief she feels is short-lived, however, her anger resurfaces a moment later “Get off me!” she yells, thrashing beneath him. 

Her attempts are futile, Loki does not budge; instead, the hold he has on her wrist tightens.

“Yield to me, Kǫttr, I promise, despite your anger you will enjoy this,” he grunts into her ear. “You were so tempting, wet and glistening in the moonlight, I simply could not resist.”

Astraea’s struggling is interrupted when he drives himself into her harder, her eyes sliding shut in ecstasy and a moan escaping from between her lips.

“Such a small pussy and yet you take me so well, accepting every inch I have to offer,” Loki croons, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains then savagely hilting himself back inside her.

“Loki, plea-Oh!” Her objection is cut off by another forceful thrust that jolts her forward. 

“What a lovely surprise,” he chuckles, his breath tickling her ear, “What a lovely surprise to find the Goddess of Innocence is a greedy little whore.”

“I’m not!” Astraea protests, equally horrified by his accusation and the knowledge that his words have brought her to the precipice.

“You are,” he purrs, still pumping into her. “Regardless of your protests, you _love_ this, being taken savagely, I can feel you fluttering and clenching around me like a cock-hungry slut,” Loki hisses from between clenched teeth.

Before she can reply, the king suddenly stops and withdraws, leaving her empty, unsatisfied and mewling like a touch-starved kitten.

Abandoning his hold on her wrists he moves, settling into a kneeling position. “On all fours,” he orders, “I want to mount you.”

Determined to resist him and the pleasure his treacherous cock brings Astraea does not move. Loki lets out a low growl of warning in reply, his eyes, now resembling those of a venomous serpent bore into hers, sending chills down her spine.

Astraea quickly scrambles onto her hands and knees, glancing over her shoulder at him. The expression he wears remains deadly, but he is beautiful as ever, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the muscles that glisten with sweat under the silver light and the long, ribbed cock that stands tall and gleams with her juices.

Placing one hand between her shoulder blades, he roughly pushes her down forcing Astraea to drop onto her forearms, raising her ass up and level with his crotch…giving him perfect access to her weeping cunt.

He enters her then, sinking to the hilt with unbridled lust, she cries out at the intrusion, despite knowing it was coming. The change of angle allows him to reach deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting her cervix with every violent push.

Moving his hands to her hips, he grips them in a tight hold, keeping her steady as he brutally hammers into her. He fucks her without any regard for her well-being, his nails digging into the soft skin of her waist as his grunts, growls and moans ricocheted around the room.

She loves it, though she would _never_ confess to doing so.

The view of her pussy being repeatedly stuffed by his cock sends Loki into a frenzy, driving him to ride her faster, harder – and awakens the desire to breed her.

To fill her with his seed over and over, until it takes root and she begins to grow round and heavy with his heir.

This was not the first time he had indulged his latent attraction to pregnant women. He had fucked expecting mothers before and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Their cunts were always swollen and tender, enhancing his enjoyment tenfold. None, however had been carrying _his_ child.

Loki permitted himself to imagine fucking a pregnant Astraea, laying her on any and every flat surface available in his castle, taking her for his pleasure and his alone, regardless of whether he had just sired a child upon her, or if she was on the verge of giving birth. Of what it would be like to pump her full of his essence at every opportunity, pregnant or not and then watching as his cum dripped from her abused core, only for him to scoop it up and push it back in, guaranteeing every drop of his kingly seed was put to good use, whether to breed her or claim her, or both.

Gods, fucking her was divine now, as he envisioned such fantasies and what it would be like were she heavy with a child, on all fours before him in the moonlight. Her tiny cunt would be puffy and red, in a constant state of arousal, practically weeping for his cock – and he would oblige, every time.

Realizing he is getting carried away, he rips himself out of the unobtainable fantasy.

“I can feel your hungry pussy gripping me, begging to be filled with my seed,” he groans, head falling back in pleasure. “Come for me, now little maiden.”

With a scream of his name Astraea came, her body shivering in unrestrained bliss before him.

Aided by the clenching of her cunt and the lewd sounds coming from her, Loki comes, his hold on her hips tightens further, ensuring she remains in place to accept every drop of his frigid essence as he deposits it deep inside her hot core.

Fixing his eyes onto her stuffed entrance, he watches in delight as his cum oozes out from around his girth and drips to the floor. 

Incoherent with pleasure, Astraea can do naught but whimper softly as Loki begins to withdraw, jolting in surprise as his cock languorously grazes her walls on its way out. 

_He was still hard._

He hisses as she squeezes him in retaliation, the now overly sensitive ridges on his shaft tingling from the stimulation.

Surging forward, he drives himself back to the hilt, fucking her with slow, deliberate thrusts, grunting as his markings rub against her.

His second climax washes over him in no time, his cock pulsing and spurting more cum into her already-overfilled pussy.

Snaking his hand between her legs, Loki roughly taps Astraea’s clit, chuckling hoarsely as she yelps and squirms, attempting to dislodge his hand. 

“Enough, wriggling,” he growls. “This cunt belongs to me and you _will_ come again. _”_

She sobs and babbles incoherently, with no choice left, she submits to the torturous sensations of fingers and cock. Electric currents traverse her body, igniting every nerve, spreading like a deadly fire, determined to consume her. 

Astraea finds, that she would gladly let it.

Completely spent she does not notice Loki has pulled out and wiped her clean until he lifts her into his arms and begins carrying her towards his bed.

“I can walk,” Astraea mumbles, irritated at his treating her as if she were glass mere moments after brutally fucking her.

Loki ignores her and strips her of her sweat soaked dress before tucking her in.

“I will give you proper clothing come morning,” he says, teleporting the pillows back to their rightful place and then crawling in beside her. “Now, sleep.”

 _So much for not letting him fuck me,_ she thinks as she subconsciously shifts closer to Loki, snuggling into his side. 

He stiffens, unused to such contact, but forces himself to relax he shuts his eyes, letting darkness envelop him. 

A soft, satisfied sigh reaches his ears as sleep claims him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback means the world to me, especially since this is the second thing ive written - which, unlike the first is going to be a hell of a lot more than three chapters. 
> 
> Hugs to everyone who Kudo'd and commented. <3
> 
> Unlike this one, I love Ch4 already (even though its no where near finished) and can't wait to share it with all of you.


	4. Blowjobs and Berries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki instructs Astraea on a sensitive matter and gives her a history lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this took an eternity, I hope it is worth it, apparently knowing exactly what you want for a chapter does NOT mean you can get the words on page and then of course... life.
> 
> As always, the brilliant [WrathKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201679/chapters/46804579#) edited this chapter, and I am so eternally grateful to her for that. 
> 
> But seriously, go to her profile and read her Loki/OFC Slow burn, you are seriously missing out if you haven't already.

* * *

“Jotunheim has horses?”

_What a stupid question_ , Astraea realises the moment the words fall from her tongue, as she is currently staring up at what is most definitely a horse.

Loki laughs uproariously. “Of course,” he exclaims, “How else would we travel large distances?”

“Is the climate not too harsh for them?”

“These are horses native to Jotunheim,” Loki explains, his amusement at her question obvious, “They have a thick mane and coats of fur to protect them from the worst of weather. They thrive here, but are wild and almost impossible to tame.”

Astraea examines the horse carefully. It, as is everything else she had seen of the realm, is _huge_ – which made sense when she thinks about it; the land was inhabited by giants, and it was only logical that their beasts were large enough to carry them.

Tentatively, she places her hand upon the creature. Its coat is as black as the abyss, but its fur is softer than any she has ever felt before.

This fact, however, does not make the horse look any less frightening.

“His name is Ámur,” Loki tells her, “It means ‘dark giant.’ Now come, I’ll help you up.”

“What about a saddle?” she asks as she cautiously steps closer to the king.

“Jotunns ride bareback, darling.” Loki’s wolfish grin makes it clear what he is truly insinuating.

Grabbing Ámur by the mane, he vaults up onto the horse before reaching over the side and hoisting Astraea up to sit in front of him.

She had found the horse to be terrifying from the ground; now, seated upon its back, she is petrified. It’s a _long_ way down. Loki wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her towards him so her back rests against his chest.

“Don’t worry,” came his silky voice as Ámur sets off in a trot, “I won’t let you fall.”

_The day before.._

Astraea was curled up on the window seat in Loki’s study, staring listlessly out the window and morosely contemplating her life.

Two weeks had passed since her arrival to Jotunheim and the fateful night in the feast hall. Since that day, Loki insisted she remain in his rooms, both to stay out of trouble and to not attract any unnecessary attention. 

“If you had not wanted to attract attention, you would have not fucked me in front of your entire court,” Astraea had retorted when he made this decree.

The king, however, had simply ignored her comment, pointed towards the bookshelf and told her that she could occupy herself with reading when she was not occupied with his cock, such as when he was off tending to his kingly duties.

As retribution for not only keeping her confined to his rooms, but also stealing her godhood, Astraea had refused his every advance from that moment on.

Which was admittedly boring, but came with the reward of seeing Loki sulk after every failed attempt to seduce her. Watching the king’s childlike pouting made every dull second worth it.

She would, however, be a liar (and a poor one at that) to say she had not grown so bored that she was at times desperate to simply yield, and allow him to re-acquaint her with his cock. He had brought her unimaginable pleasure with it, after all. 

She enjoyed every second she had spent impaled by him, every single word he had whispered, spoken or growled during those moments. He had ignited something in her she knew not how to describe; something dirty, obscene that set her skin on fire and she _yearned_ to experience all of it again –

“Kǫttr, you look so forlorn. It is distracting me,” came a dramatic sigh.

Astraea ignored Loki where he sat at his desk on the opposite side of the room; he had been doing “important paperwork” all morning, trying to get her attention by gracing her with his mere presence.

She ignored him as he had ignored her countless times.

“Fine,” he grunted petulantly, accepting that they were at an impasse. “I propose a deal.”

Astraea shifted so she was facing him, narrowed her eyes and spat, “Your last _deal_ cost me both my virginity and my immortality.”

Loki’s lips quirked as he fought back a laugh.

“If I complete all this work by noon, I will show you Jotunheim’s wilderness tomorrow,” he offered, face alight with impish glee. “But in return, I will require your assistance.”

Astraea’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You want me to help you with reading and signing documents?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as a cunning grin spread across Loki’s face, smiling so wide that it allowed her to see his sharp teeth.

“No, Astraea,” he purred; her name sounded like pure sin on his tongue, “I want you to suck me while _I_ am reading and signing documents.”

An expression of shock appeared on Astraea’s face, her eyes widened almost comically and her cheeks flushed bright pink.

This she had not expected, and she briefly wondered if he had gone insane. The look on his face however, quickly informed her that he was serious.

Despite every effort to become accustomed to the King’s endless filthy remarks and contrivances to get her back into his bed, his trickery apparently knew no bounds. And now that his politer measures had failed (if one could consider strutting around the room nude, while his stiff, indigo tipped cock saluted the heavens polite), he was obviously ready to move on to more devious schemes, even if it meant using her desperation for freedom as bait for his own sexual pleasure.

Loki was leaning back and observing her from his seat at the desk, not bothering to hide his utter delight at her reaction.

Unwilling to grant him any further satisfaction, Astraea mustered up the best impassive expression she could and plastered it onto her face.

“I’m sure there are a great many whores who are more than willing to please you,” she placidly remarked, “I, however, am not one of them.”

The past two weeks had taught her many-a-thing, and she knew the importance of acting unperturbed and uninterested in the king. It was a mannerism she had picked up from the man himself – and had adopted this tactic for the sole purpose of giving him a taste of his own medicine.

The little smile gracing Loki’s features evaporated, a scowl taking its place.

Astraea’s persistence had become an endless source of annoyance for him as of late. He enjoyed the chase, and a bit of resistance in his women, of course, but he would never take one against her will, for that was no fun at all. Thus, he had been left unfulfilled for days on end, his prick stiff and aching as his infuriating little not-goddess relentlessly denied him his due.

If he did not already have other plans, he would bend her over the armrest of his emerald crested chair and fuck some sense into her, but alas, it was not to be today. That being said, it did not stop him from sparing a moment to envision how the gemstones would contrast beautifully with her skin, and the view such an angle would provide him.

“While you are correct in your assumption,” he drawled, “I would rather cease this talk of whores, and have that virgin mouth of yours instead.”

Astraea gave him a dirty look, a multitude of reasons why she should not accept his offer flooding through her brain. Her acceptance would mean he won, all her efforts to deny him her body would be wasted. Refusing Loki meant remaining trapped in his rooms indefinitely; who knew how long it would be until he relented and allowed her out?

Still…he had already defiled her and stripped her of her divinity. Honestly, what difference would further debauchery make? What more did she have left to lose?

Tired of waiting for Astraea to reply, Loki shrugged and returned his attention back to his paperwork. “Your loss,” was his only remark.

Having her warm lips around his cock was hardly necessary in order for him to complete all his work by nightfall. Truthfully, it would only slow him down, for his mind would not be on imports, exports and land taxes; oh no, his attentions would be occupied elsewhere, distracted by the sensation of her mouth and the lewd sounds she would make as she sucked him.

…But there was no reason for Astraea to know that she would be distracting.

“Wait!”

Loki did not look up from his document. “Yes, pet?”

“What if, I-” Astraea paused and took a deep breath, “If I don’t know how to do it?”

Gaze still fixed on his paperwork, Loki schooled the self-satisfied smirk threatening to overtake his features and replied, “I will teach you, of course.”

Astraea struggled with her decision a few moments longer, and then finally blurted out, “I’ll do it.”

Now he looked up at her, red eyes slyly twinkling with the mischief of a thousand men, and beckoned her to him with a simple crook of his fingers.

Still wary, Astraea approached his desk at a slow pace, and came to stand to the left of him.

“Kneel,” he ordered, “And get under the table.”

Astraea chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds and then complied, dropping to her knees and crawling beneath the spacious desk.

“Unlace me.”

She obeyed, reaching up with trembling fingers and unfastened his pants to expose his cock.

She whimpered at the sight of him, she had avoided and bottled up the lust he inspired in her for weeks, and now, there was no way she could avoid it. He was thick, leaking and straining towards her.

“Don't be shy,” he coaxed, “Stroke it.”

Loki could not help but groan as Astraea wrapped her hand around his shaft; the warmth of her palm against his frigid skin was _ecstasy_. A sensation he had dearly missed in the two weeks she had denied him her attentions, and his precarious condition was made no easier by the sight of her dainty fingers enclosed around his girth, working him at a leisurely pace.

“Kiss it,” he grunted.

Astraea’s rhythm faltered. Loki awaited her disobedience, for her fear to seize control and words of denial to reach his ears.

She had almost driven him mad with her refusal, day after day he would try and try again, always to no avail. She would simply ignore him or flat out refuse and the most infuriating part was that she had not seemed the slightest bit affected by his efforts.

It had been a never-ending loop of rejection.

And he feared it was not yet over.

He was thus caught off wholly guard when her lips made contact with his aching prick.

_“Astraea,”_ he breathed.

Hearing the king involuntarily utter her name awakened a need to tease him, and so Astraea briefly suckled his tip, then sluggishly dragged her lips along his swollen flesh, taunting him with a touch so light it was hardly there at all.

Loki hissed as the wet warmth suddenly vanished and was replaced by the chilly air. He had waited two weeks for satisfaction, and refused to wait a moment more. He reached down and roughly tangled one hand into her hair, relishing Astraea’s yelp of surprise. 

Tilting her head upwards, his lust-blown pupils met hers.

“Suck me,” he growled, _“Now.”_

She nodded as best she could with his fist still tangled in her locks, limiting her range of motion.

Using his free hand, Loki carefully guided his cock back between her lips, and moaned as the warm cavern of her mouth re-enveloped him once more. 

No matter that she lacked the knowledge to please him flawlessly, the heat was pure bliss…

Teaching her to take all of him would require practice and patience – an education he looked forward to providing – but for now, a little guidance was needed.

Exercising restraint he did not know he possessed, Loki slowly pushed her towards him, feeding her more of his cock and whispering praise as she endeavoured to accommodate him. However, it was not long before she began to choke on his length; seeing this, Loki forced himself to stop and pull out, despite it being the very last thing he desired.

“You’re doing so well, Kǫttr,” he crooned, running his fingers through her hair with uncharacteristic gentleness. “And I’m so close, it would be a shame to stop now.” His breath was coming faster, chest no longer rising and falling rhythmically but rather erratically.

An anticipatory shiver ran down Astraea’s spine. Regardless of her distaste for the king’s methods of getting what he wanted, she could not deny the effect he had on her.

She was wet, embarrassingly so, and she had been for a while now.

If the king were to touch her, she was certain she would allow him to do with her as he pleased. Whether he wanted her on her hands and knees, or bent over a table or chair, she would not refuse.

This too was embarrassing, and she feared that all it would take was one glance for Loki to know exactly how she felt in that moment. 

“Hmm, sweet one?” he whispered, looking down at her fondly. “Do you want to stop?”

Not wanting to meet his lecherous gaze, Astraea averted her eyes and shook her head ‘No’.

Loki smirked in arrogant triumph, only to be shocked moments later when the shy girl at his feet suddenly was no more; in her stead knelt a vixen who brazenly took his cock back into her mouth and began sucking greedily before he could react.

She could not say for certain what it was that possessed her to act in such a way and she was filled with a perverse sense of pride when Loki’s hands shot to the armrests with a wild grunt, fingers gripping with such force she was certain the wood would split in two.

Now even more determined to finish him, Astraea swirled her tongue around his head, wanting to ensure she had his full attention.

She _did._

The blue column that was his prick, disappearing into her mouth only to reappear seconds later was the most erotic display he had ever seen. The utter depravity of the sight triggered his climax within seconds, and had him coming down her throat in violent, steady spurts.

The outright animalistic sounds that tore from the king’s throat as he reached his completion made Astraea’s pussy throb, and without bidding, she duteously swallowed his seed.

After what felt like countless minutes, Loki regained his composure and straightened.Looking down at her he saw her looking back up at him and, he realised that he had never lost his bearings quite so wantonly ever before, it was both, exhilarating and embarrassing.

It was a thrill to know that the inexperienced girl who knelt at his feet had brought him to a height of pleasure he had never experienced before – and it was equally embarrassing for that same reason. Out of the many women he had had and would have, it was _she_ who was responsible for his loss of control.

Loki cleared his throat and tucked himself away.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice still slightly hoarse from vocalising his pleasure.

_The present.._

Astraea quickly discovers that Jotunheim’s wilderness does not lack in beauty. Mountains rise on either side of the path and reach up far beyond the clouds, as if their goal is to cleave the sky in two. A thick layer of fog dances around the base of the snowy peaks, and Astraea’s eyes flicker across the veil of white, eager to try to discern what lies beyond.

Not even the sunlight manages to penetrate the haze, however, almost as though the fog itself is a warning _._ The effect is eerie, and goose bumps prickle Astraea’s skin; regardless of the mountains’ ethereal beauty, she is glad they are not headed in that direction.

“Where are you taking me?” she asks, turning her attention back to the road before them.

Like the mountains, the path they are traveling is is foreign to her eyes, but no less alluring. Their surroundings are dominated by icy rocks that shimmer under the soft rays of afternoon light and reflect off of the surface of the snow. Astraea and Loki are not the first to walk this trail; the snow beneath Ámur’s hooves is decorated by more than a dozen similar hoof prints, all leading towards the chain of hills that lie up ahead.

“Patience, sweetling,” Loki murmurs, “We’re almost there.”

He watches with great enjoyment as Astraea takes in their surroundings. Her excitement is childlike, and her little gasps of awe and delight are so amusing that he is almost certain a smile has taken up permanent residence on his face.

However, in the process of eagerly gazing at the sights and sounds, Astraea’s lovely ass rubs up against him, and Loki finds that he is cursed with a _dreadfully_ disobedient cock.

By the time their destination is in sight, the renowned trickster is harder than the horns of a musk ox, and it is with great difficulty that he refrains from hauling her off the saddle, arranging her on all fours and pounding her into the snow.

Her first glance at what lies beyond the hills leaves her speechless. One thing is certain: Jotunheim is not nearly as desolate and lifeless as is popularly believed.

Or at least it isn’t anymore.

Astraea could think of no words to adequately describe what she is looking at; it was a winter jungle, an impossible icy paradise.

Trees that must have been at least forty feet tall spanned the horizon, their variety of colours standing starkly against the snow. Brown trunks spangled with berries, the likes of which she had never seen before, and boughs covered with leaves so blue they remind her of the stained glass windows from home.

Numerous Jotnar move about, carrying crates filled with the fruit over to wooden carts that idly sit nearby, a horse reined to each one. The giants are no match height-wise for the trees, something that brings her an odd sense of satisfaction; in this strange forest, amongst the towering trees, she is no longer the only one who is inconsequential.

“What is this place?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at Loki.

“This, darling, is where we grow the Vinterbær,” he declares, dismounting Ámur with unmistakable sovereign elegance. “Come, let me show you,” he adds, offering her his hand.

Astraea accepts Loki’s proffered hand and gracelessly slides down from the horse, drawing a snicker of amusement from her companion.

“This way,” he says and begins walking, disregarding the Jotnar who stare at them as they pass by.

She trails after the long-legged king, trying not to lose sight of him as he stalks off into the forest.

Once he is certain they are far away from prying eyes, Loki stops and turns towards her.

“These are Vinterbær trees,” he remarks, gesturing to the surrounding woodland. “And these,” he continues, plucking one round bulb off a trunk and holding it up so she can see, “are the berries they produce.”

He then pops the fruit into his mouth with unnecessary pomp and grins at her from ear to ear.

Astraea’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand,” she says. “Is Jotunheim not destitute?”

She glances at the Vinterbær, in this part of the orchard the trees are yet untouched, their brown trunks no longer visible beneath the heavy covering of fruit.

She would have never thought any of this was possible.

“Years ago, when I arrived to claim my throne, I found the land in ruins,” Loki explains, watching Astraea tentatively touch a berry. “Laufey, my predecessor, ruled in tyranny. He cared not for his subjects, nor his realm, and sought nothing other than power and destruction. The Jotnar were facing extinction as a result.”

The king’s mouth curves into a dangerous smile as he finished, “He was weak, and a coward – and so I killed him.”

Astraea’s eyes go round, hearing these words, and she unwittingly retreats.

“Oh, naive little girl,” Loki sneers, stepping towards her. “Did you really think that I have not shed blood? That I would think twice about ripping a rival limb from limb?”

The fear on her face is answer enough.

Choosing to ignore her, Loki continues speaking.

“Using both my Seiðr and the Casket of Ancient Winters, which I had already repatriated from Asgard’s vault, I restored Jotunheim to its former glory.”

“Casket of Ancient Winters?” Astraea’s expression grows puzzled. “What’s that?”

Loki lets out a loud, put-upon sigh, as if the mere thought of answering her question is incredibly taxing.

“The casket is an artefact, imbued with ancient powers capable of bringing about both life and death.

He materialises a thick, heavy pelt and places it on the snowy ground, choosing a sheltered spot in-between two of the larger trees.

“Such as the _Fimbulvetr_ ,” he continues, “The fury of a thousand killing winters.”

He takes a seat upon the pelt, motioning for Astraea to do so as well. “The Fimbulwinter is a vortex of icy wind, capable of freezing a world in its entirety, essentially replicating the Jotunheim enviroment.”

Astraea sits opposite him, drawing her legs up to her chest and resting her chin upon her knees.

“Or the casket can be used to restore ice magic to a deteriorating planet, as I did.”

Everything about him screams severity; his lips form a thin line and his jaw clenches for a fleeting moment before he continues.

“Laufey used the former in his endeavour to conquer Midgard. He failed as Odin defeated him, confiscating the casket and hiding it away.”

“How did you know it was in Asgard’s vault, then?” 

Loki abruptly stands and reaches up an arm, plucking a deep purple berry from an overhanging branch. “Would you like to try one?”

Astraea blinks at the king’s rapid change in subject and demeanour, but she knows better than to pry. She rises to join him and examines the fruit held in his thumb and forefinger.

The strangeness of the fruit is not what makes her hesitate – it is no different in appearance than any other berry she has seen before. It is the knowledge that while it may look completely mundane, in the end it is alien…

And looks can be deceiving. This much she knows for certain.

She cannot deny her curiosity. She’s on a foreign planet, surrounded by foreign things; what sense is there in refusing a brand new experience?

Plus, if it is good enough for the grandiloquent king, it’s good enough for her.

As soon as she nods in affirmation, he comes closer until he stands directly in front of her, then raises the berry to her lips.

She reaches out to take it from him, frowning when he tuts at her and pulls it out of her reach.

“No, sweet flower,” he purrs, “you will eat from _my_ hand.”

His words are spoken in a tone so sultry that Astraea visibly shivers.

She nods again, and this time the movement is shy, hesitant; Loki delights in it. He returns the berry to her lips as Astraea obediently opens her mouth and allows him to feed it to her.

Her eyes slide shut in bliss, a thousand colours swimming across her vision, reds, blues, yellows and greens, shimmers of light and flashes of flavour as juice bursts across her tongue.

The flavor is unparalleled. The sweetest grape on a vine, or the rarest honey. Smooth. Delicious.

Loki observes her as she eats it, a lewd idea forming in his mind when a soft moan escapes her. Even now she tempts him, though she is entirely unaware of it, and he is eager to fully introduce her to his world of depravity.

A chuckle pierces the otherwise silent forest, and Astraea’s brown-speckled gold eyes fly open, a blush rising on her cheeks as she notices Loki intently watching her.

“If I had thought you would enjoy it that much,” he says huskily, “I would have had you lick the juice off my cock.”

Her cheeks turn a darker shade of red as obscene images from the day before begin replaying in her mind.

Warmth crawls up her neck with the realisation that she _would_ like… _that._ She could hardly bring herself to think the words for the goddess of purity should _never_ enjoy such a thing, but the image of his cock dripping the berry’s sweet juice floods through her mind instantly - and in that moment she wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

“Another time, then,” he declares, brushing past her and back the way they came.

The salacious smirk he sends her way causes goose bumps to break out across her skin, ones she knows have nothing to do with the frigid temperature, rather they are brought upon by the fact she well knows what that smile means.

“Come, the sun will set soon and it is a long ride back.”

Letting out a shaky breath, Astraea takes one last look at her surroundings before silently following him back to Ámur.

* * *

The "Winterberry" tree in this chapter is inpired by the Brazilian Grapetree or Jabuticaba. The fruit grows directly on the trunk, as well as it's flowers and they allegedly taste like grape candy, blueberry yoghurt or sour lychees. The skin of the fruit can also be used medicinally. 

Here is Astraea... because i simply couldnt resist. You can of course think of her as you wish, but this is what i had in mind. 

And because i simply have no self control.. i spent a whole lot of time designing her outfit for next chapter as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Her eyes slide shut in bliss, a thousand colours swimming across her vision, reds, blues, yellows and greens, shimmers of light and flashes of flavour as juice bursts across her tongue." - Inspired by that scene in Ratatouille where the rat eats a piece of cheese and strawberry.
> 
> Dont forget to come say hi on Tumblr, I don’t bite. (Unless you’re into that, of course.) 
> 
> Do tell me your thoughts!


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